


DoctorDonna Dreams

by luinel (geekns)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Post-Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, Songfic, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2010-03-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 05:45:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12052557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekns/pseuds/luinel
Summary: Despite the fact that the Doctor has blocked Donna's memories of their time together, she still dreams.





	1. Where the Lines Overlap

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Still don't own Doctor Who.

Donna Noble was having a nightmare.  She stood frozen, bathed in a blanket of sea foam green light.  In front of her stood the man from her dreams, the man she saw every night, yet couldn't see.  He stood at a computer of some sort, face turned away, the pinstripes of his suit blurring together in the dim light as he doodled on post-its, drawing in overlapping circles.  Somehow she knew what the shapes meant, messages like "You're brilliant," "I need you," and "Help me" scrawled out in beautiful complexity.  She reached out to him, but he merely drifted away.


	2. A Single Sound

These dreams weren't always set inside that glowing bubble of warmth.  Very often she stood within vistas that defied all description, that seemed utterly alien, lightyears away from ordinary. This time she was in a forest.  It was blurred like all her other dreams, a haze of brown all around, with a lone light far off, too indistinct for her to trust.  Something about this place scared her, as if every shadow were dangerous.  Suddenly, he was there, bleeding out of the fog into existence, taking her hand in his own.  His voice sang through her, banishing the fear:  "Run!"


	3. No One is as Lucky as Us

Not all of the dreams were nightmares.  She lay on a familiar beach, face upturned, suffused by sunlight, listening to the waves.  She was waiting.  She knew he would come:  he had chosen her here.  Here he played with her curls, counted her freckles aloud, or whispered sweet nothings in another language,  _I love you_ s, over and over again.  He pressed his bare skin against hers, always cool in counterpoint to her warmth, hands and mouth everywhere.  She watched the sun drifting overhead through eyelids, like when she had been a child; if she opened her eyes, he would disappear.


End file.
